CHAPTER THIRTYWalters waited silently. Above he could hear the faint tread of Inspector Bull, very faint through the solid oak floor. Then the creaking of the stairs. There was no light.
“All right,” Bull whispered. “Stay there no matter what happens. Keep still!”
The shop was as silent as the grave. They waited. Somewhere in the distance a clock struck two. Walters shifted his weight uneasily. There was a warning hiss from the darkness. Where Bull was he did not know. Gradually Walters lost all feeling except for the throb, throb, throb of his own heart. His eyes became used to the darkness; he could make out the outlines of a coat hanging in the cupboard.
Then outside, in the street, he heard a faint sound. Was it a stealthy footfall? A second later there was a faint noise inside the
